


Pet the Kitty

by keelywolfe



Series: Spicyhoney Standalones [24]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), Fuckbuddies, Jealous of a damn cat, M/M, Rough Sex, Underfell Papyrus/Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:42:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27007531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Edge does not resent that his cat is utterly shameless when it comes to Stretch. (He just wishes he could do the same)
Relationships: Papyrus/Papyrus (Undertale), Spicyhoney, Underfell Papyrus/Underswap Papyrus
Series: Spicyhoney Standalones [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1925041
Comments: 61
Kudos: 133





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nilchance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nilchance/gifts).



> So, this is totally because of Nilchance and [their prompt on twitter. ](https://twitter.com/Bonerpuns1/status/1316127878757703680)Forgive me.

* * *

“aww, who’s a pretty girl, yes, she is, pretty pretty baby.”

It was almost offensive, really.

Doomfanger was a lovely cat, of that there was no question. Long, silky fur that was blissful to stroke, (and that clung stubbornly to every surface when shed, particularly Edge’s trousers), her wide eyes strikingly blue against the wheaten shade of her coat and the dark mask of fur on her face. Beautiful, yes, and aware of it; she craftily used her enticing appearance to lull unsuspecting guests into a false sense of security. Despite Edge’s warnings, so many of them were reeled in for that first stroke and then went for a second. That was when she struck, sinking her needle-sharp teeth and claws into any hand that fell for her trap. 

It happened often enough that Edge kept a small first aid kit in the front room and anyone who complained as antiseptic was dabbed on their bleeding wounds was firmly reminded that they’d been warned. Do not touch the cat. 

But for some reason, that rule never seemed to apply to Stretch. Even before they added the vulgar title of ‘fuck buddies’ to their relationship, Fanger seemed to set her personal morals aside for Stretch (and Edge did not think at how similar that was to her owner). She seemed to sense when he was at the door and came running, already chirping her baby-cry meow as she wound her way between his feet, nearly tripping him before he was even properly inside. 

It was mortifying, Edge decided, watching with his arms crossed over his chest as his cat flopped to her side and exposed her vulnerable belly for Stretch to rub. No, it was shameful, and he did not resent that when _he_ petted her belly, more often than not he’d be hastily jerking his hand away from a sudden application of sharp teeth. 

He didn’t say a word, though, not a single one, and Edge was very sure that whatever expression was on his face, it didn’t warrant the calculating expression that fell across Stretch’s when he glanced up and caught sight of him. It certainly didn’t deserve that infuriating smirk as Stretch stood, dusting any clinging fur from his bony fingers as Doomfanger loudly voiced her displeasure at the cruel abandonment. 

“aww, what’s the matter, sweetheart?” Stretch crooned. He sauntered over and the cocky roll of his hips was nearly as infuriating as the way it drew the gaze, implying a certain level of skill in a very specific context. “do you need pets, too?”

“You—” _Fucker_ never made it out of his mouth, smothered beneath a harsh kiss as he was suddenly caged in Stretch’s arms. Just as well, it was better to have the reality of it than the word. Stretch was stronger than he looked, easily able to lift Edge off his feet, urging him silently to wrap his legs around those inviting hips to carry him off towards the bedroom. 

They didn’t quite make it, mouths jarring apart as Stretch briefly stumbled, his sweatshirt gone askew where Edge gripped it. The temptation to sink his teeth into Stretch’s exposed collarbone was too much to resist and had him stumbling again, cursing loudly as he turned to push Edge against the wall with enough force to knock his breath from him. 

“you little shit, wanna play like that?” Breathed hotly against his skull. 

He didn’t, couldn’t say, _yes, fuck yes, have me, take me, make me._ He could only tip his head back against the wall, snarling wordlessly at the ceiling as his clothes were seized with magic and torn away, leaving him bare to the bones, his cunt forming between his roughly spread femurs. His clothes were certainly taking a beating these past few weeks since they’d begun this, sometimes ripped to little more than rags, and he didn’t care. Not so long as he could be here, his wrists roughly pinned to the wall by strong, slim fingers, another arm under his knee, hitching him up higher as Stretch struggled to wriggle down his shorts, his cock pushing urgently against Edge’s already humiliatingly dripping pussy. 

They both groaned in unison as he shoved inside, filling Edge with one hard, deep thrust. It was almost too much, the girthy stretch of it almost painful with no prep and Stretch didn’t pause, already moving, his pelvis pistoning against Edge’s as he drove in with a brutal rhythm. 

“Fuck!” Edge grunted. Barely, he could feel the burn of friction on his bones where he was jostling against the wall. Hard to pay attention to that when the angle of Stretch’s cock inside him was perfect, hammering in exactly where he needed it and sending his vision into stars. The wet glicking sound of it was loud, obscene, pulsing with metronome precision. 

“yeah, that’s the idea, baby,” Stretch gasped out. The undercurrent of laughter in his voice was familiar and unwelcome, and Edge wrenched a hand free, scrabbling for a grip around Stretch’s neck to cling viciously. Needle sharp fingers dug into his cervical vertebra and Stretch yelped and only fucked him harder, returning his viciousness in kind, stretching him brutally past his limits. 

“Oh, fuck, oh, _fuck,_ I—” Edge whined, his voice shorting out into a desperate cry.

“don’t you fucking come,” Stretch grunted, “don’t you dare, not yet.”

He nearly disobeyed immediately, even as Stretch suddenly withdrew, unceremoniously releasing Edge so that he slid down the wall, staggering to his feet and nearly collapsed directly to the floor. He didn’t have the chance to even catch his balance, spun abruptly around and a foot clad in an untied sneaker kicked his legs apart, Stretch crowding him back into the wall, both hands on his pelvis angling his hips as he pushed roughly back in. 

“Yes, yes, _fuck!”_ Edge wailed, his voice breaking and hoarse, his sharpened fingertips gouging into the wall as Stretch drew back to only the tip and slammed back in, again, again, oh, fuck, again. 

A slim hand fumbled down between his legs, two fingers vicious on either side of his clit, stroking with painful intensity and his threatening orgasm abruptly swarmed over him, dimming his vision on a blinding rush of pure, sweet bliss that left him trembling and weak. He sagged, held up only by Stretch’s hands and weight holding him against the wall, sliding in his own sweat disgustingly damp beneath his bones.

Stretch never paused, hands shifting to Edge's pelvis and his fingers digging into the iliac crests as he kept fucked into him with a brutal drive. He panted out against the back of Edge's skull, “that’s one. now let’s see what you can do for me.”

By the time Edge properly came back to his senses, lying in his sweat-and-cum sticky sheets, the light coming in through the bedroom blinds was tinged with twilight. Next to the bed, Stretch was pulling on his stained clothes, his hands still a little fuck-clumsy, quivering yet with little aftershocks.

“Leaving so soon?” Edge managed to keep it light, a teasing question that didn’t reveal any of his inner turmoil. 

“yeah, i gotta, promised blue i’d be home for dinner,” Stretch yawned. He gave the back of his clothed pelvis a crude, vigorous scratching. “gonna have to shortcut right to the shower and hose off as it is, don’t think spunk is the aroma du jour for a lasagna…oh, hey, there, beautiful.”

As Edge watched, Stretch crouched down to where the cat was winding through his legs and gently stroked a hand down Doomfanger’s arched back. Gentleness that he never showed Edge, not that he asked for it or even wanted it. He scritched lightly under Fanger’s chin and the rusty sound of her purr filled the small room, as did her mrrp of disappointment when Stretch stopped. 

“see you this weekend?” Almost a careless afterthought, as if Stretch didn’t mind very much if he did or not. 

“Maybe Sunday, I’m busy Saturday.” Busy doing nothing but pretending he wasn’t desperate for more of this, so much more. 

“sounds good, text me. laterz.” With a casual wave over one shoulder, Stretch shambled out of the room, shoelaces trailing, and Fanger’s last protesting mewl following him out as he closed the door behind him. 

Doomfanger leapt lightly on the bed, her tail curled around her feet as she sat just out of reach. 

“What?” Edge asked her defiantly. 

Her meow was as accusing as the glare in her pale blue eyes.

“It’s not like that,” he told his cat, “we’re not in a real relationship.”

Her tail twitched, once, twice, like a snake. “What can I possibly do? If he wanted to stay, he’d ask. Obviously, he doesn’t, what do you want me to do, beg?”

Doomfanger blinked slowly, her ears flicked, and Edge sighed. “I know.” Softer, a confession only for feline hearing. “I know. I wish he would stay, too.”

That seemed to be all she had to say about the situation. Doomfanger stood and walked fastidiously across the soiled sheets, settling back down against his ribcage. Her purr was loud enough to rattle bone and Edge rubbed her ears, touching silky fur that Stretch’s fingers had only just stroked with such gentleness. It seemed he saved his kindness for only one pussy in the household and Edge did not yearn for a softer touch against his own. He didn’t and he’d keep telling himself that until he believed it.

Edge lay there in the growing darkness and pet Doomfanger for a very long time, and tried not to think, tried and failed, because his cat really liked his fuck buddy, his friend, his…he didn’t know, and couldn’t risk asking. All he knew was that Doomfanger really liked Stretch and Edge was very much afraid that he liked him, too, and all he could do was lie here and pretend he wasn’t jealous of his own blasted cat. 

He drifted off to a rumbling purr at his side and the memory of soft words, _who’s a pretty girl, yes, she is, pretty pretty baby,_ words that weren’t for him, not in the slightest.

But he could still pretend. 

-tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was supposed to be a one-shot, only Rook (achirding) came up with an idea for a sequel, so here we are. 🐱

* * *

Edge lay back on the sheets, panting, legs clumsily sprawled apart and one arm dangling off the side of the bed. His long fingers grazed against the carpeted floor, the sharpened tips catching as he tried to convince his wits to gather themselves back together in a coherent fashion. Slumped next to him, Stretch was much the same or at least Edge could pretend that his gaspy breathing was not only from exertion. If they were both equally overwhelmed, then there was no winner, was there, no matter what Stretch’s sly grin said. 

The radio was on and playing cheerful pop music, a feeble concession to his neighbors, and Edge had long since moved the bed against an unshared wall where the thump of the headboard wouldn’t earn any irritated shouts or worse, glares in the hallway on the way down to get his mail. 

Edge shifted again, grimacing as the linen beneath him clung clammily to his bones. They would need washing again, he noted absently, the sheets. Damp with sweat and other various fluids, heavy with the cloying scent of magic tangled in sex, spicy-sweet. Black sheets, the color not chosen for its aesthetic but for its tendencies to hide stains and purchased more recently than Edge wanted to admit. Before Stretch, his sheets had been simple and utilitarian, simple white cotton washed once a week with hot water and strong detergent. It took less than one night with Stretch to convince him that those would no longer suit. Once Edge found himself inviting Stretch over to put the bed to regular use, he’d gone for something a little more pleasing. It was well worth the price of a higher thread count when they slid against his bones as he was dragged across them, knees and elbows digging in as he scrabbled to brace himself or the achingly sensitive rub of his sacrum grinding into the softer linens. Sheets that hid a multitude of stains and were gentle against bones? More than worth the price.

Sex with Stretch was not what he’d expected when they first started this. For one, for such a lazy shit, he had more stamina than Edge would ever have expected and that blasted, obnoxious attitude of his was much less annoying when coupled with a sly grin and a tongue that was clever with far more than silly puns. 

Sex with Stretch. Words that Edge would never have imagined putting together in a sentence that included himself, but if he’d ever managed to put aside his disbelief long enough to consider it, he would have pictured himself as the one in charge. Taking control, guiding their sexual calisthenics to the foregone conclusion. But from their very first time Stretch trod right over the very idea to pin Edge down, his slim fingers bracketing Edge’s wrists like cuffs of bone and keeping them there until he’d crudely teased out a first orgasm with nothing more than the subtle, rhythmic pressure of his knee. 

Thus far, he’d dominated every one of their encounters and even less believable to him was that Edge found he liked it. Fuck that, he could at least be honest with himself in the privacy of his own mind; he _loved_ it. Loved being able to lie back and hand over the steering wheel to someone else, his usual iron need to command shoved firmly into the backseat while he could only shudder with bliss, writhe against his expensive sheets and take what was forcibly given to him in hitherto unknown delight. 

If there was any minor complaint, it was only the increase in his laundry and…ah. Well. There was one other issue. 

Edge felt the faint brush of soft fur briefly against his dangling hand and then Doomfanger leapt on the bed, her loud baby cry demanding attention as she butted her head rudely against Stretch’s bare hip. 

“hey, there, pretty miss.” Stretch automatically reached down to pet her, scratching the delicate points of her ears as she began to purr loudly enough that Edge could feel the vibration through the mattress. Edge bit back the entirely unreasonable demand for that easy affection to return to him. The faint ache at his pubis, the disjointed feel of his hips and knees was a fair sign he’d just gotten plenty of attention, not to mention his very recent memory of Stretch’s tongue curling wetly against his cunt. Driving into him as Edge tipped his head back and stared unseeing at the ceiling until he could no longer bear it. Closing his sockets achingly tight, his hands scrabbling desperately over Stretch’s skull and leaving behind faint scratches as he arched up and came. 

He’d had all of that not even a half hour ago and he refused to be jealous of his damned cat, even when Stretch cooed to her about being a pretty girl while he struggled to his feet. His knees seemed to still be unsteady and Edge bit the tip of his tongue against asking Stretch to stay at least long enough for his joints to settle. 

Pathetic to quibble about the aftermath. He’d gotten what he wanted, Stretch gave as good as he got and took what he wanted from these…sessions. Whatever else he wanted was as nebulous as the night sky Stretch liked to watch with the others, their telescopes set up in the backyard as they went over star charts and internet pages, and Edge sometimes brought them hot chocolate and snacks, listened to Stretch’s teasing laughter and silly puns, and it made some emotion clench in Edge’s chest that felt almost the same as seeing Stretch being so gentle and sweet to his cat. 

Doomfanger made a sound of displeasure as Stretch stopped petting her to skin into his pants, the waistband already drooping enticingly down his pelvis as he hauled his hoodie over his head and hid the exposed bone. Something rattled in his hoodie pocket and Stretch reached into it with one hand, gripping beneath the cloth. He coughed faintly and looked ill at ease as he said, “oh, uh, by the way, i brought you something.”

That made Edge blink in surprise. Presents certainly weren’t a regular occurrence, past the one time Stretch brought a sackful of Chinese takeout with him, both of them slurping delicious noodles and fried rice right from the waxy white containers, and when Stretch finally pushed him down on the sofa, his kiss tasted of orange chicken and soy sauce, rich and ridiculously delicious. 

This was no cheap offering. The box Stretch pulled out of his pocket was long and narrow, bearing the mark of a local jeweler. He held it out wordlessly and Edge tugged the sheet carelessly over his lap before he took it, his fingers trembling faintly as he lifted the lid to see the contents. 

A collar. 

All the heady anticipation rising in him deflated, draining out of him like water through a sieve. It was a lovely collar to be sure, obviously handcrafted and the leather precisely stamped with a delicate skull motif surrounded by ornate curlicues and shapes. Dangling from it was a gold tag etched in flowing script, a single word, his own name, ‘Papyrus.’

Lovely, yes, but it was difficult to stifle his rising disappointment. Of all the gifts in all the world that Stretch could give him, it was something for his cat.

Ridiculous, he told himself savagely. It was a gift and certainly a pricy one, and he was not about to let Stretch see any ingratitude for it. 

“It’s lovely,” he admitted, and he could only helplessly admire the way Stretch lit up, his odd uncertainly brightening into dazzling glee.

“yeah? i was hoping you’d like it, i…i wasn’t sure,” he laughed a little unsteadily, “i spent a lot of time thinking about it, you know?”

“Of course I like it,” Edge assured him. He hefted it in one hand, admiring the dark leather against the paleness of his bones. It was certainly excellent craftsmanship and if its intended audience wasn’t likely to fully appreciate that, then Edge could certainly do it in her place. 

“good, that’s good, ‘cause i was thinking—” Stretch trailed off as Edge pulled Doomfanger over, ignoring her plaintive meows as he slipped off her old collar, a basic affair from the local pet store, and carefully fastened on the new one. He noted grudgingly that the dark brown leather looked even better against her wheaten fur. She twisted in his hold, tail lashing as she tried to see what he was to do to her, and Edge soothed a hand down her spine as he adjusted her new adornment. 

He frowned, tugging at the collar. It slid far too loosely, he could easily fit three fingers or more beneath it and the buckle was on the very last hole. “Hm, it’s a little big.” He glanced at Stretch and his face was falling into dismay, his previous delight fading. Edge added hastily, “Of course, it shouldn’t be a problem to add another hole.” Or three, honestly, the creator should have asked for a better measure before he made it. It was a shame to see any shoddiness in such lovely work. 

A hectic flush was rising in Stretch’s face, a bright mottled orange against his cheekbones and Edge cursed himself for bringing it up. He could have had it adjusted without saying anything and instead he’d made Stretch self-conscious about his gift. “I love it,” Edge said, trying for reassurance.

From the way Stretch flinched, his attempt was miserable failure. “…great. yeah. that…that’s great.” Stretch ducked his head and ran a hand over his skull, slim fingers clattering softly over the bone. “i’m glad. um. i guess i better get going.”

It was peculiar to see him so discomfited and uncertain, especially here in his bedroom. Stretch fairly oozed confidence whenever they were together, and Edge let that dominance wash over him every time with the force of an ocean wave, trusting enough to give himself over to Stretch’s control. 

Trust, yes, he trusted Stretch in a way Edge never had another, and a renewed sense of guilt filled him for making Stretch think he didn’t like his gift when honestly Edge never expected any to begin with. Edge wasn’t particularly skilled in seduction in any sense of the word, but this time he made an attempt. He gently pushed Doomfanger aside despite her offended yowl of protest to lounge back on the messy sheets, stroking a hand down his femur in generous offering as he tried out a purr of his own, “Are you sure?”

Pale eye lights flicked over his bare bones lingeringly, tracing his femurs, his pelvis, the scarred bones of his ribs, only to falter at the level of his chin. Stretch only stepped further away, towards the door as he stammered out, “y-yeah. see you later.” And with that, he turned abruptly on his heel and walked out, closing the door quietly behind him. 

Edge sighed and flopped back again without any pretense of eroticism, dragging the comforter over his suddenly chilled bones. Fanger took that as an invitation of sorts, picking her way delicate across the sheets to settle into Edge’s covered lap. He stroked her soft fur and tried to push aside his unreasonable upset. It certainly wasn’t her fault Stretch gave her a present. It was still difficult to even believe. A present for his damned cat, even if it was a lovely one. Edge rubbed his knuckles against Fanger’s throat where the purring vibration met the collar, fingered soft fur and leather. When he touched the delicate tag, it tinkled against the bare bone with a bell-like chime. Absently, he traced his name with a fingertip, the delicate, curling script flowing across glimmering metal. His name. 

His…name…

A flashbulb went off inside his head with a near blinding pop and Edge was scrambling to his feet before he even fully understood, snatching clothes haphazardly from the floor and hopping on one foot as he struggled to pull up his trousers, already calling a frantic, “Wait!”

The pavement was cold against his bare feet as he dashed outside and Edge paid it no mind, jogging out to the sidewalk to look down the street. The sidewalk was empty, hardly a surprise, Stretch wasn’t about to walk home when a quick shortcut would do. He stood there uselessly in rumpled trousers, his unbuttoned shirt hanging open and his hands dangling emptily at his sides as he groaned aloud, a frustrated, wordless growl. He was an idiot, an absolute fool, and—

“looking for something?”

Edge whirled around with a gasp, his soul pounding. Stretch was leaning against the side of the building, a cigarette in hand, and the sight of him, slouched down in that ridiculous hoodie of his and a curious, lopsided smile curving his mouth did unreasonable things to Edge’s soul.

“More like someone,” Edge said. He took a step closer and hesitated, assaulted with vague uncertainty as he asked, “That…that wasn’t for my cat, was it.”

That smile widened teasingly, “dunno, it did look pretty good on her.”

Edge swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. “Stretch—”

He shrugged and took a drag off his cigarette, exhaling a perfect smoke ring that drifted towards Edge, hovering briefly over his head in a nicotine-tainted halo. “guess it’s for whoever you think should wear it.”

An offer and a compromise in one, giving him the choice. As if there was one. Edge licked his teeth, their sharp points prickling lightly against his tongue, watched Stretch watching him, that slow, sinuous movement crackling in his darkening eye lights. 

“Come put it on me?” Edge asked hoarsely.

“i can do that, kitten,” Stretch said, only his voice was the one purring, titillatingly rough, shivering its way down Edge’s spine. He tossed his cigarette aside and stepped forward, his touch cool against Edge’s suddenly overheated face as Stretch cupped it in both gentle hands and kissed him.

* * *

-fin

**Author's Note:**

> I know that Doomfanger is not traditionally a Siamese cat, but I had a Siamese years ago who acted EXACTLY like this, so I couldn't resist.


End file.
